


Misunderstandings

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Double Lives, F/M, Lingerie, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Not HP7 Compliant, S.S. Viktory forever, The Golden Trio, suspected adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:10:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: She was Hermione Jean Granger. She'd been through hell. She'd walked through fire, the valley of death, and fought terrible people. She'd killed...Hadn't she lost enough? Couldn't she have just this bit of happiness?Could it just be a misunderstanding like they were so very prone to with their scars in the way?





	1. It Was The Year 2000.

It was the year 2000.

The war had been over for two years, so naturally everyone went towards whatever would make them happiest. Harry and Ginny finally got married and they were expecting a kid in a few months time. Hermione had been surprised that they had waited two years to do so, but was happy for them all the same. 

She and Ron had finally come to terms that they just weren’t meant to be together. He’d found love, real love, in a witch he’d met while working for the Ministry and they had just gotten married. She had a feeling that they would be announcing the newest Weasley soon enough. 

Harry had pretty much adopted Teddy, renovated 12 Grimmauld to be liveable again and seemed to be doing much better now that the war was well and truly over. The Ministry was being revitalize and for the first time since their fourth year, the World Cup would be held again. 

Ron, Harry, and Ginny gushed at the prospect as the three of them had actually gone to the last one and were looking forward to dragging Hermione to this one. 

_ It’s a sporting event you have to experience once in your life, _ Ginny insisted. 

Her half-protests seemed so trivial now. Her half-agreement seemed trivial as well. The game, the war, the victory… everything seemed so very trivial.

_ How did it get to be like this?  _  Hermione wondered sitting at the dining room table, tears streaming down her cheeks a pair of gauzy blue underwear several sizes too small to fit her in her hands. She glanced over to the offending bag she’d found them in as she’d been washing clothes earlier that day. 

It had been innocent, he clearly hadn’t thought he would be caught, or perhaps he hadn’t put them in there at all. Whoever wore these knickers probably had, knowing that he had girlfriend, or maybe not knowing at all. Maybe, the woman just wanted to be remembered by a…  _ whatever _ it was that Viktor actually did.  

What had she--

She shook her head, stopping that train of thought. It was a slick and dangerous slope to start thinking that way, to letting him off the hook for this or anything. A dangerous slope of transferring the blame to herself, of losing herself in her love for him. She had worked… so hard to love herself again. No one, not even the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with, the rest of her muggle life, would undo that. 

After the war, Hermione had done exactly what she’d planned to do: she graduated at the top of the class, passed all of her N.E.W.T.s with top marks and went to work for the Ministry that was struggling to get back onto its feet. She’d been honored with several medals, including the First Order of Merlin for all of her work during the war. Medals of valor… She’d gotten her Healer’s license officially, and interestingly enough she’d become a researcher for the Ministry. She wasn’t assigned to any specific sector of the military and enjoyed her days traveling sometimes to other countries to find information, transmit information and learn anything, and everything, about… well  _ everything. _

At least, that’s what she did in the wizarding world as Hermione Granger. 

In the muggle world, she was Hermione Wilkins, orphaned by a boating accident officially. She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that they were dead without knowing her or if that with them, the last of muggle Hermione Granger vanished. It was easy, living in the muggle world, working in the wizarding world. 

She’d met him in a muggle cafe in London. Handsome, charming with an old world air about him and an accent reminiscent of Eastern Europe. Broad shoulders, strong features--clearly an athlete from his stride alone. 

“ _ What are you reading? _ ” he’d asked and they’d spent the afternoon talking about Russian poetry, then philosophy, then art. They’d talked themselves through dinner and into a promise to see each other again.

They dated, slow at first since he was always in training for football and she was always traveling for work. They talked on the phone, sent letters by post and postcard. It had been such a sweet romance for two years before they moved in together, in a small flat in London that he was hardly ever at, but they didn’t mind. 

When he was there it was beautiful, wonderful even. Their first time together was so… heart-lifting and romantic that it still made her smile fondly. He’d been so gentle, so very sweet and kind to her, making sure her pleasure came first, being patient when she needed it.

She thought it had just been because she was virgin but quickly found out that even when he was drunk with lust and just needed to taste her he was always that way. The sex was great. The conversation was stimulating. It seemed that everything was perfect.

That’s until things started changing. To her, Viktor wasn’t an athlete, but a regular man with an intellect as sharp as hers. She’d had to be careful to hide her wand and all the trappings of being a witch while sharing close quarters with him, but she didn’t mind. With him, she was just Hermione. 

Only ever Hermione…

His Hermione… 

At least until the nights without him turned into weeks of him not coming home for more than a few moments at a time. She shook her head, she should have known, should have followed her instinct, should have listened. She’d been through hell for heaven’s sake, through war and lost nearly everything she’d ever known for some madman’s dream, all she’d wanted was a bit of normalcy, a bit of happiness to call her own and she thought she’d found it in Viktor. 

Thought she’d found it.

She shook her head and looked to her own bag packed neatly with everything she owned from their small muggle flat in London. She’d loved it when they decided to move in together… but she couldn’t stay here any longer with it all staring her in the face, unblinking and sneering at her. 

She’d go stay with Harry once she’d had it out with Viktor. She grabbed her cell phone and pressed the number, watching his picture appear on the screen as it rang. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asked from the other side and she found that she couldn’t even be upset.

How could she be? It was so obvious. She wondered, for a moment, if the woman on the phone was pale. Creamy where Hermione was chocolatey, or more of a cafe au lait complexion. Just lighter, skinnier than her she was sure. Perhaps she was pure Greek to Hermione’s mixed heritage hailing more from Africa… perhaps she was Bulgarian. From the lingerie in her hands, she  knew that she was at the very least not as curvy as Hermione was, not so heavily endowed in the hips and chest. Her thighs probably weren’t well acquainted with one another, rubbing through pairs of jeans in record time. 

She was probably a pale, blue eyed, blonde, busty beauty that may have fell for the same “I’m an athlete” line Viktor had given her. They probably didn’t talk Russian poetry… or maybe they did but in Russian? Apparently, her fledgling Bulgarian wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t enough for him. 

“Is this Viktor’s phone?”

Her chest tightened and her stomach rolled. She wasn’t enough for him and he’d… he’d been everything, more than enough for her. 

“Da, who is this?”

Gods, how to answer that right now? Nothing made any sense anymore. Nothing made any sense. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shoving her emotions down with logic, the cold edge of logic that she’d made and held onto during the war.

She was Hermione Jean Granger and she deserved, and would have, better than to be cheated on.

“Hermione,” she said. “His ex-girlfriend.”

The woman murmured, turning away from the speaker to yell something across the room. She heard several voices, but no music. Maybe she’d stepped outside to take the call?

“Viktor is in shower now, will tell him to call back.”

“No need,” she said politely. “Just tell him that we’re over.”

She ended the call then and squared her shoulders, letting the lingerie fall to the table and shut her eyes as the tears came. 

Merlin’s sake… she was the brightest witch of her age wasn’t she? Waiting this long to figure out that her boyfriend was cheating on her. She stood then to do a last sweep of the apartment, looking over the bookshelves was the hardest, but she’d do it. 

Her eyes landed on a book of poems and she swallowed. It had been the book that had started it all. It was clearly his copy as it was in Russian and she could read Russian. So many nights of listening to him read the words. 

Some of pain, some of joy and love and loss…

She closed her eyes and remembered them each, the sound of his voice reciting poetry with his own take on the pauses and how it was meant to be read. It always sounded beautiful.

She reached up to her face and sank onto their couch. They’d bought it together but she had no wish to cut it in half or anything else. She covered her mouth, shut her eyes and let the tears fall. 

Viktor was cheating on her.


	2. The Problem With Teammates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only he didn't have a phone and taught his entire team on how to use one, this wouldn't have happened.

Fedovra looked at the muggle contraption strangely and then set it down as Viktor came out of the shower, half  dressed and hastily drying off.

“Viktor,” she called out holding his phone over her head. He looked up, rushing to get dressed, excited to finally be going home to Hermione after weeks of being apart. Sure, he’d be back for training, but at least he could go home every night now. Flooing and apparating across country lines got tiring rather quickly when you did it every night, but it was worth it just to be with her. 

She was back from her trip to Germany, in their flat in London. If he hurried, he might be able to catch her before she started making dinner and take her out--

“Da?” Viktor asked packing quickly.

“A British woman called you,” she said. “Her-my-own-ee?”

Viktor froze and looked up to see Fedovra holding his phone, “What?”

“Your,” she frowned trying to get the english word to fit into her mouth, “ _ ex-girlfriend _ ? She said  _ we’re over _ . What does that mean?”

Belov frowned looking at Fedovra then to Viktor who had gone so very pale, “I thought you were still dating that muggle girl in London.”

Viktor stuffed the rest of his things in his bag, grabbed his phone and rushed off to the floo point, screaming for the bar that was down the street from their flat, and apparating to their building. He walked in and ran up the stairs just as she was coming down the hallway, wiping her face, eyes downcast.

“Hermione!”

She didn’t acknowledge him, but turned towards the stairs as he rushed up the stairs to cut her off.

“Hermione, what is meaning? Do not understand.”

She turned and glared at him, “Should I say it in Greek for you? Bulgarian just to be clear? I know my Russian just isn’t strong enough.”

He stepped back at her rage, her red eyes and tear streaks from crying.Her brown face contorted in a brave anger and indignaiton as she looked at him. He’d never seen this look on her face before.

“ _ Gotovi sme, _ ” she hissed and turned. The words hit him full in the chest and he shuddered, even as his blood went cold. 

When had she begun learning Bulgarian? When had her accent been so perfect? Why was he so very turned on even though she was telling him that she was breaking up with--

“Wait,” he pleaded moving to cut her off, glad that he was still so very much faster than her, dripping wet from the shower still in his muggle clothing, haphazardly put together, his bag over his shoulder and confused.

“Do not understand,” he said nodding his head. “Explain, mila--”

“Don’t you call me that,” she nearly shrieked, too emotional to think or to control herself before turning the other way towards the other set of stairs. 

Viktor growled, grabbing her, hauling her over his shoulder, bag and all before entering their flat as she pounded at his shoulder and kicked him to put her down. She was a short, curvy beautiful woman, barely five six to his six five frame. Well-muscled, athletic and gorgeous covered in smooth brown skin, her hair as wild and curly as ever. He set their bags down inside the doorway, closed the door behind him, locked it and set her down on the ground. 

“Stubborn woman,” he said, “Am trying to understand.”

“What part of  _ we’re done _ don’t you understand?” She said trying to move past him, but he held her still.

“Am not understanding you,” he said. “You are girlfriend--”

“Ex, Viktor,” she said. “Did the water from your shower clog your ears--”

“You say ex but you have not explain why.” Viktor said. “What have I done?’

She scoffed, “Unbelieveable…”

He frowned watching her shake her head, distraught and moving towards the dining room table. In a moment, he realized that all of her touches to the flat were gone, packed up. Even her books were gone from the shelves leaving it half empty and terrifying. How long had she been moving out and why? What the bloody hell had happened? He’s shocked out of trying to search his brain for an answer, standing in front of the doorway when a bundle delicate lace hit him in the face, more than that the smell that made him choke like a million fans swarming him at an event. He shook his head and pulled the offending piece off, wincing at the strong smell of perfume that came from it and looked at them strangely.

“These are not yours,” he said, more than confused.

Hermione shrieked tears streaming, “Of course they’re not mine! As if I would wear any perfume so horrible!”

“Where did they come from?” He asked confused, examining them. 

They weren’t even the right size to be Hermione’s and he knew Fedovra only wore French silk and was several sizes too large for these even if they had switched bags at some point… They couldn’t be her girlfriend’s either, they were way too small… So where did they come from? 

And why did they smell so bad? Like an improperly brewed love potion.

_ Fans, _ is what his mind supplied and he groaned.

“Your bag,” she said. “I thought… You.. I trusted you Viktor! I… trusted you and this is how…”

She shook her head reigning in the fizzling in her fingertips. She wanted to hex him, but wizarding rules being as they were… That wasn’t the case either. She didn’t want to hex him. She wanted to scream and yell. She wanted him to tell her that it was just a mistake that it was all a just a misunderstanding. That there was a reason he wasn’t on any line-up of any football team she could find in London or anywhere. That she couldn’t find any record of who he was in Britain or Bulgaria. Viktor Krastev was a myth in himself. 

She wanted for none of it to be real, but there was no denying the truth. Long nights away, underwear in his travel bag. There was no denying it.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. Don’t call me, don’t look for me. I swear Viktor--”

He held out a hand and nodded his head, “Are not making sense. You think I would… cheat on you, mila?”

“Think?” She asked incredulous. “How else do you get scented knickers into your gym bag?”

“Fan mail,” he said simply dropping the underwear and hoping that there wasn’t any love potion on them, wiping his hands and face trying to get the scent out of his senses. “Is hazard of being athlete--”

“Bollocks!” she yelled stepping back from him. “Football season is over Viktor! Training-- I couldn’t even find what team you played for minor or major! You aren’t on any of the rosters.”

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, “Is… complicated, mila.”

“Last time I checked, football is not a co-ed sport,” she said. “So explain the girl who answered your phone.”

“Is Fedovra she is--”

“What Viktor? What lie can you come up with now?”

Viktor wasn’t sure how to take that statement looking at her sad, desperate eyes. Not sure if she wanted to believe him, wanted him to lie to her no matter how unconvincing it was to her muggle mind...Not sure if she would believe him even if he gave her a plausible cover story. 

Not sure he could handle this doubt always hanging over their relationship. It was a dangerous thing to be with a muggle as a wizard… he’d been preparing to give up everything-- his career, Quidditch, his family… everything to be with her as soon as the World Cup was over. 

He’d already picked out the muggle jeweler he would buy the ring from and everything. Made himself a new name, learned more English than he could count and packed up everything he owned in Vratsa, ready to move completely and start a new life with her. Yet, here he was going to lose her perhaps. Perhaps lose her forever for something that was too complicated to explain and could land him in more trouble if he did, yet not caring. She looked at him with that strange expression, desperate, terrified and resolved all at once. 

Hopeful, his mind supplied. 

Hermione was strange like that sometimes, wanting truth but so afraid of it, so hurt by it that she face every turning moment in their relationship prepared to be skewered through the chest. Prepared to lose everything. He knew that it had something to do with losing her parents, leaving her essentially alone in the world except for Harry and Ron whom he’d never met in person. 

“Mila,” he started. “Would… sit? Please? Is not like you to yell--”

“And it’s not like you to cheat!” She screeched, the tears coming hot and heavy as she shoved him in the chest, angry and screaming at him that he’d hurt her. That she thought they were good together. That she loved him but couldn’t do this. Could only ignore so much before she couldn’t any more. Sobbing and pounding on his chest, unleashing the months of doubt, suspicion and hurt that he’d never been privy to. 

“Just tell me the truth!” Hermione begged sobbing into his chest, clenching his shirt, distraught and falling apart, sinking to her knees clinging to him, tired from it all. 

Viktor’s heart pounded in his ears seeing the maelstrom that had become of their flat as things had lifted into the air and gone flying crashing and tumbling down to the ground as she beat at him. His eyes widened.

“Mila,” he said. 

Hermione sniffled and looked up at him, “How did you do this?”

She frowned and turned look behind her. She gasped and flinched at the sight, things still hovering in the air fell to the ground, plates and bowls shattered. She moved away from him and all at once had whipped out her wand to stun him. He pulled out his own on reflex and the blast of light vanished, sending them both backwards from the shock. They stared at one another pointing their wands at one another.

“You’re… a wizard…”

Viktor shook his head, “Da. You are witch.”

She nodded dumbly staring at him, her eyes narrowed and she focused on him, at least now she could actually hex him. 

“This changes nothing!”

“Does, mila,” he said desperately. “Change everything!”

“You still--”

“Mila!” he thundered, throwing his wand aside, shocking her. “I would never! Love you too much, afraid would lose you--would leave career, life,  _ everything _ for you, mila. Plan to at end of season after World Cup--marry you mila, no one else.”

Hermione faltered, “What?”

He let out a breath and grabbed his bag, wrestling his Quidditch uniform and the Daily Prophet out to give to her as his dirty clothes and other things tumbled out.

“Am Viktor Krum, seeker for Vratsa Vultures and Bulgaria National, mila,” he said desperately. “Knickers are fanmail, have sticking charm probably. Fedovra is beater, see?”

She looked at the paper to see his team’s line-up, the coverage of yesterday’s match in Poland that would put the Bulgarian in the running for the World Cup finals.

“Am Seeker, not football player. Thought you were muggle, closest game-- did not expect to love you so much, to need you. Talk with coach to leave when season over to be with you.”

“Your parents…”

“Not understand, angry, but different now. You are witch, mila!”

Hermione looked at the page shaking her head, “This… is is crazy.”

It was absolutely insane. She knew of Viktor Krum. Triwizard Tournament, famous Seeker, took a strong stand in the fight against the Death Eaters helping to lead Eastern Europe to victory. She’d never seen his face though.

He frowned looking at her, “What?”

“You… you don’t know who I am,” Hermione said looking at him. “I thought… I thought you were a muggle because you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t recognize me.”

He frowned, “Same, but why? You are Quidditch player?”

She snorted, “Not even if it was the last occupation on earth.”

He smiled at that and sat on the floor in front of her as she sat back, her legs folded as she held his uniform and the newspaper in her hands.

“Hermione Granger,” she said and his eyes widened. “I… only go by Wilkins in the muggle world.”

“Potter friend? Fight in war?”

She nodded and he stared at her, “Are right… is crazy.”

She looked at him, “You… know me.”

“Know name, hear on radio, but picture not make it to Bulgaria. Were with Potter to end… Potter is Harry, your friend yes?”

She nodded, “He and Ron are… very large fans of yours.”

“Da,” he said. “Met at Triwizard tournament.”

She groaned, rubbing her face as he moved to wipe her tears away gently and tuck a curl back behind her ear, marveling at how the warm golden undertones of her browwn skin seemed to make his own olive seem richer when their bodies were so close together. 

“How is this possible?”

“Where were you then?” Viktor asked, confused. “Went to Hogwarts, yes?’

She nodded, “I graduated early.”

He did a quick calculation, “Graduate at fifteen? Still put up with me?”

She laughed helplessly, wiping her face as tears of relief came and he moved to sit beside her. 

“You… believe me? I never meant to hurt you. Never cheat, Hermione.”

She smiled, her jaw trembling as she cupped his face, “Da.”

Viktor smiled leaning forward to press their heads together, “Are… very powerful...wandless magic.”

“Only when I’m really emotional.”

His lips twitched, “Not believe for second is true. I read paper of you, warrior strong.”

“I...I’m sorry.”

He nodded and hushed her, “Is not fault, mila. Was misunderstanding…”

Her lips twitched and she kissed him. He couldn’t stop, pulling her on top of him stripping her just as quickly and desperately as she fumbled for his jeans, to just get enough off to get into her, wrapping her legs, still clad in her boots and long socks around his waist, begging him with everything in her to have her. He listened, thrusting hard and losing himself to the familiar and long awaited feeling of her in his arms, beneath him and crying out for more. 

Gods, when was the last time he was home long enough, with enough energy, to have her like this? Too long, far too long if it had gotten so bad that she thought he was cheating. He’d show her more than tell her that there was no one else that could satisfy him the way she did, no one else he could ever give his all to. He got them up off the floor and stumbled over the mess to put her against the wall and thrusted harder, glad for multiple surfaces he could splay her out on and have his way. His mouth on her skin, everywhere, thrusting his tongue into her desperate and heady to have her every way he could as she writhed and begged him. 

_ Love me. _

_ Love me as much as I love you. _

It was hours later, they lay in bed that the police came, apparently someone heard them arguing, the sound of breaking dishes and filed a complaint. Viktor slid into his jeans, half buttoned and Hermione squealed rushing around the corner to peak, mostly naked since Viktor had all but shredded her clothing in a desperate need to get her naked and have his way with her. He checked to be sure nothing wizarding was around or visible.

“Is problem officer?” Viktor asked with a serene smile.

The man stammered looking up at Viktor.

“Yes, your neighbor reported a disturbance, a potential domestic violence issue. Do you mind if we come in and take a look.”

“Just a moment,” he turned, “Mila, are dressed, no?”

“Viktor!”  she hissed around the corner, embarrassed and so very grateful that she was dark enough to never blush. “It’s called tact.”

“Well, thought it best to be sure,” he said with a smile and turned, leaving the door open for the officer, kicking their clothes over their wands and over most of his uniform before pulling one of his t-shirts from his gym bag and giving it to her. She glared at him and he only kissed her head as the officers came in and looked around at the chaos. Viktor found her a pair of clean boxers to wear and hid her from sight while she put them on. 

The female officer asked him to step away from her and out of earshot while she asked her a few questions and the other looked around. Viktor took a seat on the couch, relaxing in plain sight as the officer looked around, probably looking for traces of blood. There would be none, but he applauded them for checking. Applauded the female officer for her thorough questioning even as he found it ridiculous. 

“Did you decided to throw all of your dishes on the ground?” The officer asked looking at the wreckage. “Along with everything else?”

Viktor hummed, “Is more like new start. Had rough day.”

While Hermione appreciated their thoroughness, she was still rather embarrassed that the woman felt the need to note everything she said and make her prove a few things, walking around properly and the like. Eventually, they chock it up to elderly neighbors and a young couple who got a bit too rowdy with their reunion and left but not before the woman assured Hermione that she could call at any time and casting a suspicious look at Viktor. 

“Because clearly shorting out the toaster is a sign of domestic abuse,” Hermione said sinking onto the couch with Viktor. 

He chuckled, “Think concern was because of dishes. Is oven okay?”

She nodded, “And the microwave. There’s just something about that toaster than never really liked me.”

“Da, not like me either.”

Hermione sighed leaning against him comfortably, “I should have said something.”

Viktor kissed her head, “Should not have made it necessary, mila.”

She smiled and nodded, “To think… this could have been avoided if we’d just gone by our real names.”

He laughed and kissed her head with a shake of his head, “You are right.”

“Dinner?” She asked. 

He grinned, “Late night?”

She chuckled and nodded before they got up to get dressed and visit their favorite late night muggle spot near the flat. With a flick of her wand, the dishes reassembled themselves and moved back onto the shelves. They settled in for the night.

In the morning, Viktor waltzes with her in the kitchen and tells her that he’s leaving for training and eating most of the bacon she’d made.  He squeezed her ass playfully and apparates to the floo junction he uses to get to Vratsa just before Harry and Ron show up and Hermione can manage to swat him for his mischief.

“‘Mione! Is everything okay?’

She opened the door and grinned at the two, “Every thing is just fine.”

“You didn’t come over last night, we were worried,” Harry said stepping to hug her tightly. 

Ron cast his eyes around suspiciously, seeing that her decorations were back up on the walls. 

“Well Harry,” she said moving towards the kitchen to finish eating her breakfast. “We had a bit of an interesting night.”

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Ron asked. “What did he tell you?”

“That he’s a wizard,” she said with a grin and they looked at her shocked. 

“What?”

She nodded and took a seat, “He’s… a wizard, wand, flying, spells and all.”

“Well… that’s great,” Ron said and Harry laughed.

“Seems like even in the muggle world, we just keep pulling you back.”

“Clearly,” she said with a shake of her head. “He went off to practice… He’s a Quidditch player.”

Harry nodded and took a seat. 

“Our ‘Mione, dating a Quidditch player,” Ron said. “Who would have thought? Is he any good?’

Hermione smiled mischievouslyy, “I’ll… let you be the judge of that.”


	3. 4 Records-- 1 Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We've... we've given up enough, haven't we?"

It’s so loud, even inside the Minister’s box that she can’t do anything but scream along with the rest of the crowd. Viktor had given her a Bulgarian red scarf, one that wasn’t even out in stores yet, to wear and she’d worn something far more interesting beneath her game day clothes: a form fitting dress that he hadn’t seen yet. 

They’d spent the night together, him nervous with game day jitters and she’d kissed him goodbye before he was set to meet his team members. 

“Aren’t you in the spirit?” Ginny teased looking at Hermione. “Looking rather hot, is your boyfriend here?”

She grinned and nodded, “He’s here alright… he should be arriving soon.”

Ginny looked at her strangely as the German team flew onto the pitch, riling the crowd with their presence. Not so soon after, the Bulgarian Veelas took the field and the red formation cut through the German one. The whole box went up in cheers as they flew past. 

“KRUM~!!!” The word erupted across the stadium and he twirled, weightless, tetherless through the air on his broom. 

“No man should make flying look that good,” Ginny said with a shake of her head.

Hermione laughed watching him weave through the air to join his team in the line up so the game could begin. He pulled down his goggles and scanned the crowd, maybe looking for her, maybe not and smirked. 

“You alright Viktor?” Fedovra asked.

“I am perfect!” He said back, too happy to care. 

He found his parents in the Minister Box and smiled. They weren’t happy with him yet, he knew that, his coach not quite understanding, waiting until after to make the announcement official. It was good to see them there, still showing their support even though they did not understand it. 

Then he saw her. Decked out in his county’s colors, his colors looking at him with that wicked smile. She was so beautiful and he grinned. 

They’d win this time. 

“Let’s bring that trophy home where it belongs!”

His team members sent up a rallying cry and the game begun. 

Expectedly, the Germans were on the attack, hard, but the beaters on the Bulgarian team were far more experienced, stronger hitters. It was about ten minutes into the game before a chaser was knocked off their broom. 

He looked to Sergei, their coach, who seemed absolutely astonished at the quickness. Maybe not believing they would pull together so quickly. 

“The current record for the number of snitches a Seeker has caught in a row is thirty-four,” Ron said. “If Krum catches this one, he’ll set a new record.”

“Two,” Harry corrected. “Longest snitch catch record and World Cup catches.”

“Three,” Ginny said easily. “Number of catches, World Cup Catches, and Ten Year Record.”

Ron’s eyes widened, he hadn't even thought about that one since Viktor had begun playing at 17 and he wasn't going to be 27 for at least another three years.

“What’s the Ten Year Record?” 

“The number of wins in the ten years of playing,” Ginny explained. Most Quidditch players only did so for ten years before retiring, usually being too old or too tired to continue. The number of wins in their ten years became their ten year record.

“The last record was set in the tenth year by a Keeper for Germany at winning 63 of the 107 matches he played in. The win against Poland put Viktor at 63 out of 69, making him already, well ahead of the ratio.”

She hummed.

“Not to mention that it's 63 straight catches.”

She'd had no idea that he was so very accomplished as a seeker.

“Next thing he'll break is the shortest game record.”

Hermione laughed, “Isn't that like three and half seconds?”

They looked at her strangely, “How did you…”

“Surprisingly, I do listen when you all talk about Quidditch.”

They chuckled, of course she did. They turned back to the game just as Viktor zipped past the German Seeker and stopped lifting his hand.

_ Viktor Krum has caught the Snitch! The Bulgarians have won the World Cup! Four world records, one game ladies and gentlemen. _

“Four?” Ron asked.

“Oh… yeah, back to back World Cup finals,” Ginny said, hitting herself in the head. “How could I have forgotten about that?”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. 

_ Looks like Krum’s got someone in the Minister’s Box he needs to speak to… What’s going on? _

She felt her stomach flop as he flew towards the Box, hovering, standing on one crossbar to float in front of the box and grin at her. 

“Look best in red,” he said looking at her and she grinned.

“Quite a catch, Vitya,” she said affectionately, leaning on the railing.

_ Krum is talking to Hermione Granger, it looks like they know one another. _

He stepped onto the railing and leapt down to stand beside her with a smile and kneeled, making her gasp.

“Hermione,” he said evenly, offering up a Snitch shaped box, the Snitch he’d just caught in his other hand. Hermione gasped watching it open to reveal the ring inside.

“V-Viktor… you… crazy…”

He beamed at her, “Da. Crazy.”

“You--”

“Is not game Snitch, mila,” he said showing her. “Only box… You were… the Snitch that I have been chasing for years, mila. Will you be my wife?”

Hermione looked down at him, cupping his jaw and carressing his face, “Da.”

He beamed at her, letting go of the Snitch to slide the ring on her finger before standing. The Snitch hovered and before it took off she reached out to grab it, impressing him and making him laugh as he lifted her into his arms and spun her around to the amusement and shock of everyone in the stadium. 

_ I do believe Viktor Krum just proposed to Hermione Granger. _

His team flew over shocked, yelling at him in BUlgarian to explain as he kissed her and grinned. 

“Go,” she said nodding towards his team and bumping noses with him. “Take this with you, yeah?”

Viktor laughed taking the fluttering Snitch from her hand and giving her the box. He looked at his parents.

“Will explain soon,” he said with a grin and stepped onto his crossbar to float away and away from his teammates. They did the perfunctory victory lap and check in with the referee before the reporters swarmed. A million and three questions to ask and a very large percentage of them about Viktor’s relationship with Hermione.

When they got back to the locker room, Sergei grabbed him. 

“Explain this! I thought you were--”

“She is a witch,” Viktor grinned. “Neither one of us knew. It just happened, Sergei... “

“So… you aren’t leaving to go be a muggle?” Fedovra asked. 

He nodded, “I’ll still be around to fly circles around you all for quite some time.”

They laughed shoving him and Sergei broke out the champagne, popping the cork and being sure to spray Viktor generously for the stress as well as his engagement. Getting changed was a rather sticky affair, but he managed it, changing into dress robes so they could go and receive the trophy properly.

He went to find his parents, only to find them seated with Hermione, laughing as they spoke, hearing Bulgarian mixed with English as they conversed. 

“Viktor,” his mother called, seeing him standing. “Your Hermione is such a sweet woman. How small the world is for you two to have found one another the way you did…”

He smiled and kissed her cheek, clapping his father on the shoulder before taking a seat beside Hermione who seemed to be beaming, glowing with happiness.

“You are...not angry?” He asked.

Stanislav sighed looking at his son, “We have raised you to be your own man, Viktor. We were confused, yes, but one must follow their hearts in these matter and we can clearly see why you were so taken with Ms. Granger.”

He smiled and looked at her, “Yes, very taken.”

Hermione grinned back at him, “At the very least, now, we won’t have to worry about your career, hm?”

Viktor laughed, “Da. Coach is very happy for it...I am sure most of the wizarding world will not be.”

Hermione licked her lips, going over the words and scanning through her mental dictionary. She wondered for a moment if this is what Viktor felt like when he wasn’t entirely sure of English meanings.

She smiled and shrugged, “The wizarding world can take a hike.”

They laughed and Hermione grinned, taking his hand, “We’ve… We’ve given up enough, haven’t we?”

He looked at her and shook his head, “Da.”

She smiled and maybe if she cries when they get back to their flat, it’s okay. When he takes her to his house in the Bulgarian countryside, they spend hours in bed or frolicking in the surf. The wedding is lovely and magical and for once in a long time there’s no way to misunderstand one another.

He’s looking at her. 

She’s looking at him. 

Everything else fades away. 


End file.
